2014.01.11: Summoning Granpa – The End to Afterlife

Summoning Granpa – The End to Afterlife
Tamara observes as Darcy summons up a spirit, however they get far more than they bargained for.
IC Date	January 11, 2014
IC Time	9:00 P.M.
Players	Darcy, Tamara and Beckett as ST
Location	The Magic Box Prospect, CA
Prp/Tp	n/a
Spheres	Mortal Mortal+

The Magic Box has been closed for a couple days. And was a long two days for poor Darcy Lennon. She'd likely attest to the fact. At around seven o'clock Beckett pulled up outside the business with her on the back of his bike. She had her overnight bag, an a backpack full of new locks and deadbolts. At that point they started working on changing all the locks in the building. At around eight-thirty, Beck took over the job. That was when Tamara arrived to return the book she borrowed. Greetings were exchanged, a few questions asked - things of that nature. "I got this," Beck told them as he went back to fiddling with the front door.

Sometime into the conversation - and no doubt with many more questions to ask on the tip of Tamara's tongue, Darcy determined that - seeing is believing. Beck finished up and gets ready to excuse himself. He has a call to make, and a few papers that needs grading. He wasn't able to get to them last night. "So everything looks pretty good Darcy," he says coming up the steps and lingering in the doorway to her residence. He offers Tamara a glance, and smiles before turning back to the blond. "I'm heading out. Can I count on seeing you tomorrow?"

So much has happened, and it's left Darcy a little wary about things like.. security. Thus, the new locks and all for her doors, and added ones to her windows where possible. Even new codes for the security system. When Tamara arrives, she offers a smile, and laughs, "You didn't need to return the book, but.. hopefully it helped explain a few things?"

With questions and answers given, Tamara is brought upstairs, and after a moment, Darcy wonders, "Would you like to see something you read about? A ritual?" Seeing is often believing, after all. With Beckett returning upstairs, done with the last of the locks, she rises and crosses to him, nodding, "Yes, you can. Thanks again.." A kiss is offered to him, a brush of lips against his to linger for a moment before she draws back, "Take care, and sleep well." Some amusement is shown then, "I'll give you a call if anything comes up."

Tamara nods, "A few things. It's still all pretty confusing, about how it works. Can everyone do these things? Is it about just knowing you can, or how to?"

Beckett seems amiable to Darcy's affection. Something new between them, and thought still somewhat awkward - obviously enjoyable. He slips his arms around her small waist, lifting her to her tiptoes and holding her against him as he returns the kiss she offers in parting company. The difference is, Beckett doesn't waist the moment simply letting the kiss linger. He deepens it.

Beckett senses Darcy offers quieter still, "I'll miss you... I slept better than I have in a long time last night with you."

He takes full possession of her mouth in a more passionate kiss then she might expect. The type that could very easily leave a woman breathless and dizzy. His tongue is like silk against hers, and his powerful hands hold her close. He's a man's man - brawny and solid. After the intimate moments ends between them, the older man smiles and releases the blond back to her feet. "You two enjoy your evening," he says to both Darcy and Tamara before turning and taking a few steps down the stairs. "I'll lock up behind me." Then he's headed out. Whether Darcy's left weak in the knees or not.

Weak in the knees? Oh, you can be certain that Beckett surprises her with the returned kiss! But it's a good surprise, that you can be certain of! She's smiling a lot more when he pulls away, nodding as he speaks of locking up behind him as he heads back down the stairs.

And then Darcy remembers she's got company, and actually turns, a blush to cover her tanned cheeks, "I.. hmm.. wow.. okay.." Momentarily distracted, yep!

Tamara is looking at the ceiling humming. Ok, she may be grinning too. She looks back down at the stammer, and says, "Safe to look yet?" the grin widens and says, "Nice."

"It's safe. I think." Darcy answers Tamara, laughing then, "Sorry." Yep, still surprised. Pleasantly so. "As I was saying.." She tries to draw her mind back to the topic at hand, "And you had a question... depends. Psychic abilities are those that can't be taught. And not everyone can do them. Once you have one that appears, it's easier, they say, to figure out others, but not all the time.." She walks over towards the side, soon to begin moving the table there back out of the way, then rolls up the rug on the floor, revealing an inscribed circle within the wood of the floor. "What I can do, is sorcery. Witch craft some would call it..." She rises to her feet, then looks to Tamara. "I could teach it to someone who wanted to learn, maybe.. I'm still learning myself, actually."

Tamara pauses, "I would like to. I mean...I'm curious. They aren't mutually exclusive or something, are they? The psychic thing and the ritual thing?"

Darcy moves over to a shelf where various containers are kept, along with a mortar and pestle set. "No, they aren't exclusive... some people just find it easier to learn things than others. Guess it really depends on how open your mind is to what can only be described as magic?" The smile appears, though there's a sense of seriousness to voice and movements as she takes some herbs from various containers, "I'm mixing a few herbs to put into my salt for the binding circle that I will lay out." Explanations given.

Tamara nods as she says, "I think I'm getting more used to the prospect. I mean, since all this weird stuff is happening to me, I have to admit weird stuff is possible."

Darcy nods, "I grew up in the middle of weird things. To a point, I guess." An open mind does the blond have. She works the herbs with the pestle, breaking them up, and soon sets it aside, a large container of salt to be opened, and soon some mixed with the herbs. "I need to take a quick shower.." She says once done, "Part of ritual, is doing things in a certain manner. Just as you would wash your hands and all at work to keep contamination occurring between your patients, I have to wash to keep my ritual clear of such things. I could do it without, but in this instance, I prefer to be safe than sorry, especially when I'm looking to summon something..." More explanations offered, "Would you like a drink or anything? I won't take that long. "

It figures on a night like tonight. A night where Darcy’s delving onto the dark arts, that the weather would shift. Beyond the loft’s windowpanes, clouds begin to gather. Dark, ominous clouds that threaten one of those torrential rain storms. The weather rolls in off the ocean, wind kicking up in physical announcement of its arrival. Deep within the dark nimbus, the flicker of lightening can be seen. Slowly but surely the streets of prospect begin to clear of pedestrians

Tamara nods, "Got to do things the right way. And follow protocol.." her voice fades away as she glances at the window, hearing the noise. Ok, that's creepy. She murmurs, "Umm...nothing for me, thanks." distractedly.

Darcy glances to the windowpanes, tilting her head slightly as she listens to the weather shift. And being near the beach as she is, one can see it change fairly often, "Don't worry.. whenever a storm blows up, seems worse when you're out here in the harbor area than it does when you're further inland in the city." She chuckles. Yes, chuckles! Then with a nod, she scoots off to take her shower. She might be quick, but she's thorough in her washing, and when she returns, she's wearing a thin, light robe of silk. It's apparent she's nude beneath it, but she doesn't seem to really care about that. "Okay..."

Tamara doesn't seem to worry much about it. Hey, at least there's a robe. She says, "So, what should I be doing? Or should I just stand over here, so I don't screw anything up?"

The rain begins in unison with Darcy turning on her shower – though she’d never know it. Tamara though, she might notice it. She might even get that eerie sense one gets when faced with the unseen. Impossible coincidences begin to line up. Omens, pointing towards something dark on the horizon. By the time the blond returns, the storm has made landfall, engulfing Proctor in a spectacle of wind, rain and flashing lightening. Punctuating the Hispanic woman’s unsure question is a thunderous boom and vivid flash of lightening. It leaves Darcy’s electricity flickering.

Darcy glances up as her lights flicker, a brow raised, "Really now?" Talk about your omens, right? Maybe she should reconsider. Not! "You can stand nearby to watch, though all I ask is whatever you do, do not touch the items I will be using, or the salt I will be pouring out in the circle. To break the circle before I release what I summon.. is not good." That's putting it lightly. Then, she asks, "Would nudity bother you? I generally do my rituals for this sky clad.. in the buff.. but if that would bother you, I can leave the robe on." She leaves that up to Tamara and her comfort zone.

Tamara puts her hands behind her back, feet spread. Ok...parade rest, but whatever. She waves a hand, "Do what you need to do. Don't have anything I haven't seen." Yeah, that military experience does show at times. "I'll just...stand over here and not break any circles."

Tamara’s ‘gift’ would allow her to notice what Darcy doesn’t. A unmoving shadow near the window, silhouetted by a flash of lightening. Vaguely humanoid, the dark image doesn’t move until the lights flicker again – then it’s simply gone.

"Then, thank you." Darcy says, laughing a little as she undoes the belt, and slips the silk off to leave draped over a nearby chair to be taken up when all is done with. It's then that Tamara would likely get a good look at the tattoo down her back that starts up at the nape of her neck, currently hidden by the fall of damp hair. She walks forwards, placing a few things around the circle at cardinal points - a bowl of water, a small knife, a bowl of dirt, a wand. And then there's a curious little set of Japanese statues she'd taken from downstairs in the shop earlier and sets them within the circle on the wood before stepping out again.

Tamara's eyes flicker to the window. She tenses, moving toward it, then backing off. Maybe...maybe JUST a shadow. She turns, looking uneasy, and she watches the ritual being set off.

As Tamara turns back, the specter is just there suddenly, lingering beyond Darcy. Observing her work. She can be nothing short of a ghost or spirit. A nearly translucent woman in a long black fabric dress with a white apron and bonnet. Her hair is piled high on her head, beneath the bonnet, however, curls that fall to the shoulders. She seems as though she just stepped out of a Puritan village in the mid-1600s.

For a moment, Darcy considers the statues, then what's going on with the weather outside. With a shake of her head, she picks them up. "Another night." She sets them off, then glances to Tamara as she moves, "You okay?" She wants to make sure that her guest is doing alright. She reaches up to touch the necklace she wears, and then takes a deep breath picks up the bowl of salt to begin her ritual, if Tamara is well.

Tamara’s face twists, then distorts impossibly. Her neck snaps to the side, broken; her head angled all wrong to support life. It lulls from side to side, then flicks back leaving wrinkled rows of flabby skin beneath it. Her mouth opens wide, vomiting up her entrails in a fountain of violence and gore. Darcy can physically smell the stench of blood, bile and raw flesh. In a single horrified blink the illusion is gone. Tamara’s fine.

Tamara carries on as if nothing happened. But she IS looking past Darcy now, staring at something and she says, "I don't know if this matters for the ritual but... we have some company." raising a hand, pointing just behind Darcy's shoulder.

Darcy almost drops the bowl in her hand when that illusion plays out, her face going a little pale. A deep breath is taken only to leave her sputtering on the scent that seems to fill her nose then. And then the illusion is gone, and all is right. Maybe. Clutching the bowl, she blinks a few times, "That is Mary... well.. maybe.. does she look like she's from the time of the Salem Witch trials and wears a white bonnet?" She's looking to the circle, then back, perhaps actually considering not doing this tonight with the way things are going.

Tamara spins around, to look behind her, "Is there another..." she looks around, seeing nothing, "Yeah, that's kind of what she looks like."

Ooo, this one can see her. That interests Mary, her incorporeal form turns as she regards Tamara. Her dead eyes resting on the women for several seconds. Then, with no warning at all, she passes directly through Darcy and comes face to face with Tamara. The Hispanic woman can literally /feel/ the spectral cold surrounding the ghost, as Mary invades her personal space. Tamara’s next breath actually comes out in a visible puff – as if she were standing in the middle of the Arctic.

"Mary, be nice.. please.." Darcy does ask of the ghost, giving only the slightest of shivers as the thing passes through her. She doesn't notice the ghost quite as much as Tamara does, though there's a connection between she and the ghost, that you can be certain of. She frowns when she notices the puff of Tamara's voice, "Mary.." It's also obvious that she cannot see the ghost right now. "Please, we're trying to do something here, and if you keep up, I won't be doing this ritual tonight."

Tamara is looking at something, and it isn't Darcy. She mutters something in Spanish, probably a curse. Then she says, "Mary, is that your name?" She glances toward Darcy, "You know her?"

Beyond the loft’s coziness, another crack of thunder sounds, several seconds behind a bright lightening strike. Mary drifts back from Tamara, having heard her prodigy’s plea. He smiles a somewhat sinister smile, and dissipates like a mist right before the Hispanic woman’s eyes. She reforms before the eyes of both women, across from them, on the opposite side of the casting circles nine foot diameter. She makes a gesture towards the portal of conjuration, then smiles a drifts again into the shadows. She’s done her damage. For now.

"Mary." Darcy does entreat once more, starting to turn away from the casting circle to set the bowl aside. Yet, before she does so, Mary moves back, allowing them both to see her before she disappears again. "Yes, I know her. She likes to hang around bothering me from time to time. She's not... bad..." Not really, right? Just a little weird. "You okay? " She asks of Tamara, "You're the first one I think who has actually seen her and all.."

Tamara nods distractedly. "She left..or at least I can't see her. She kind of motioned toward your circle. No idea what THAT means." she looks over, "Puritan lady? I mean...that doesn't seem very California."

"She wants me to get on with the summoning." Darcy answers, "I could see her then. I can't see her all the time, only when she lets me see her." So in that, Tamara is special. "She was burned at the stake for witchcraft back in Salem. But unlike so many of those that they burnt, she actually /was/ a witch. She started showing up when I started teaching myself stuff.." With the bowl in hand, she prepares to begin making the circle.

Tamara murmurs, "A different kind of mentor, or...drawn to this kind of stuff?" she looks curious, thoughtful. "She's far from her home. I don't know why they'd hang close to home, if it has such a bad memory attached to it, except it seems to weigh some of 'em down, those memories. This one, I guess she may be weighed down, or drawn to, something else?"

"Something, yes.." Darcy answers, though shakes her head lightly, "I don't know.." Or maybe she knows what draws the ghost, and isn't going to say at the moment. Moving towards the circle, she glances towards her, "Ready?" With the single question asked of Tamara, she begins the ritual even as the rain pours down outside.

Picking up the jar of salt and herbs, she begins to walk the circle, calling upon the elements for their help and protection. "I call upon the wisdom of the North, The creativity of the East, The passion of the South, The emotion of the West, To create this sacred space between the worlds." Once the circle is inscribed, she goes back to further call upon the elements.

In each cardinal position is an item: in the north is a bowl of earth with a green candle set within; the south is aflame, along with a red candle; to the west is a chalice of water, with a blue candle; to the east lies a wand and a yellow candle.

Moving to the north, she speaks, "Spirit of the Earth, Guardian of the North, You ground me and feed my connection to the earth. Be with me now to be witness and guardian to this ritual." She lights the candle after smudging a bit of dirt upon the floor before the bowl.

Moving to the East, she speaks, "Spirit of the Wind, Guardian of the East, You fuel my imagination and give me creativity. Be with me now to be witness and guardian to this ritual." With that, she lights the candle, then waves the wand through the smoke, to make it dance in the air.

Moving to the south, she speaks, "Spirit of Fire, Guardian of the South, Your power leaves me in awe, I am comforted by your flame. Be with me now to be witness and guardian to this ritual." With it's candle lit, the larger candle puts out light and heat which she basks in for a moment.

Moving to the west, she speaks, "Spirit of Water, Guardian of the West, you are my pathway to the Goddess, you bring me peace. Be with me now to be witness and guardian to this ritual." A dip of a finger into the chalice, and water is touched to her forehead, then to the floor before it.

Then finally, she stands to the side, and speaks one more line, "Akasha, spirit of energy that surrounds us. Be with us now to be witness and guardian to this ritual."

Tamara stands to the side, back where she first stood. She relaxes into a modified parade rest, eyes intent on the ritual, but still surveying the surroundings. She remains somewhat vigilant. She watches curiously, to see what happens next.

As she finishes, Darcy sets aside the bowl, then reaches up to take off the necklace she wears, to place it there upon the floor in the middle of the circle after calling upon Akasha, and thus sealing the circle.

A reverberation of pure, raw power disturbs the air in the in the loft, vibrating small objects and setting the candle flames to flicker. The lighting dims, as if something is sucking all the electricity from the blubs. Both Darcy and Tamara feel the breeze kick up around them, dancing through their hair and tickling their flesh. The spell is set, the circle properly formed. The salt lining the ritual mark swirls, highlighting each arcane ideogram.

Bound by magic, amidst the center of the pentagram a shadow begins to coalesce. It’s scale is human sized, it’s form that of a crouching man, though never truly corporeal. His body is doubled over for several moments before he lifts his head. It is a man, an old withered man with a confused expression. Even in death he appears blind. “That voice. Aye, I know that voice,” he whispers with a strong Irish accent.

Darcy shivers, unable to help it as the wind plays against her bare skin, plays with her hair. The electricity in the air brings even the hair on her arms to stand up briefly. Power in the air, around them. Power of the circle snapping shut. Only then does she seem to breathe easier, though as the shadow appears within, she steps closer to stand, watching, waiting. When the man appears, she might well blink in surprise. "Granpa?" Not... exactly who she was expecting.

Tamara's eyes go wide at the new arrival. She looks at Darcy curiously, to see if that was what she was expecting. She murmurs, not wanting to interfere too much, "Relative?"

“Dorcha!” The specter says happily, finally able to pluck the familiarity of her voice from his thoughts. Indeed it is the spirit of Darcy’s grandfather that lifts to stand in the center of her circle. She hadn’t seen him since the day they placed his body in the ground. It’s a very unexpected and emotional reunion. Sightless eyes lingering on her, shifting only to Tamara when the sound of her voice alerts him to her presence. She only interests him mildly, then he turns back to the blond. A ghostly hand rests on the invisible sphere entrapping him. Small sparks of blue and purple emanating from the contact made. “Why call an ol’ man from his rest, lassy?”

Before Darcy might answer Tamara, she's faced with the question from the old man, the sight to leave her still surprised though tears gather in her eyes, "Granpa.. I'm sorry. I did not mean to call you..." She offers a half chuckle, "I guess my thoughts weren't so clear as I thought they were. You were on my mind earlier today."

Tamara looks from Darcy to what seems to be her grandfather. She bites her lip, tearing up a little, herself. She's lost her own abuela, years ago. Can't imagine meeting her again. Hard to say if that would be a pleasant meeting or not.

“Good as it is to hear your voice girl, I don’t belong. My time ended long ago,” the Ghost says in a kind, if not friendly tone. His other hand finds the sphere that houses him, binding him to the circle. More of those sparks flicker beneath his semi-corporeal palm. Blind, milky white eyes fix on Darcy as her magic moves his tongue to purpose. “What was it you sought, child?”

Taking a deep breath, Darcy nods, "I can release you, Grandpa. Truly..." She shakes her head, then seeks to answer, "Someone to give protection to the young girl who owned the necklace there within the circle." Words come firm, serious, and full of meaning.

Tamara looks at Darcy, asking her first question, "Protection for whom...from what?"

The spirit of the old man glances down at the necklace. A simple pendant of jade, the hue of a rose. He lifts a bushy brow and smile. “So I see,” he says though he eyes remain unseeing. Slowly, and with some degree of difficulty. He crouches back down, reaching out to attentively touch and other-worldly finger to the pendant. He rises again, leaving his eyes on the pendant as he speaks. “She is a special young lady. I can see her in your future Dorcha. I can see…” He trails off looking down at the pendant again.

Darcy frowns a little, worrying her bottom lip before she glances to Tamara, "Evil." It's as simple as that, right? Turning back to her grandpa, she listens, blushing a little as he mentions seeing the girl in her future, "That I like the sound of." This is a good thing, but as he trails off, she prompts, "See?"

Lightning strikes extremely close to the Magic Box. So close beyond the windowpanes sparks from a blown transformer can be seen. The power dies immediately, leaving the loft bathed in the soft glow of candles, the spectral glow of Darcy’s grandfather, and nothing more. The boom that follows the flash is loud, and vibrates the entire building.

Within the sphere of protection tendrils of darkness seep like wisps smoke from the cracks in Darcy’s floorboards. They twist and curl around the legs of the ghost. Their bleak, blackness a stark contrast against his iridescent pale form. He notices them, and a look of confusion crosses his features. It is completely obvious he doesn’t know what they are. Every glass surface in the loft frosts over, and the temperature drops below freezing in an instant.

In the span of a few breaths the sphere begins to fill with a second form. A form without beginning or end. It’s like a inky black cloud of shadows, offering nothing more distinctive than movement. The tentacles continues to slither around the spirit, tightening as they grow thicker. A look of pure horror crosses the ghost’s face, followed by a scream.

Mary appears beside the Witch’s circle for both women to see. She appears as shocked as anyone else.

Darcy flinches, ducking downwards when the lightning strikes close by, only to gasp when the lights die then. At least there's a few candles lit offering their pale light to the room in four places about the circle. No doubt, there's plenty of people calling the utilities so she doesn't add another to the list.

Lifting her head, her gaze falls upon the darkness that has begun to creep into the circle, frowning as she watches her grandpa's form, "Granpa?" The word ends on a note of chattering teeth as the loft goes freezing cold, gooseflesh to break out over her nude form as her breath puffs out in white before her face.

As the darkness grows, and her grandfather screams, she jumps and steps forwards, reaching out, and yet training has her stopping before she touches the circle, gaze going to Mary when she pops into view, "What the hell is going on, Mary??"

Tamara ducks at first, then jerks toward the circle, instinctively moving to protect the ghost. Only a combination of terror and Darcy's instructions about breaking the circle stop her. Pale, shaking, she says, "What WAS that? What happened to him?"

The scream of the specter is as bone chilling as the air temp. However it silence immediately when one tentacle tightens around his throat, and another dives down his open mouth. The second being much too large for the space. It’s bulbous form can be seen stretching the throat of Darcy’s grandfather, distorting it beyond the proportions that should be possible.

More and more of the dark tendril penetrates the ghost, swelling it’s center until the image of its clothing begins to burst and rip. The ghost’s sightless eyes seem to beg for help that would be impossible to give as it belly swells.

Under the translucent flesh, a writhing of coils can be seen, both grotesque and horrifying to behold. The one seems like legions now from what movement can be witnessed. What happens next only reinforces this. The tendrils erupt violently from every opening a man should have. From his nostrils, to his naval and beyond. They snake forward then stab back into his body, tearing open his spirit form and ripping it apart from within and out.

The look of fear on his face far surpasses any words that might be used to describe it, for there is no afterlife beyond the afterlife. He dissipates completely, replaced by the darkness that now radiates within the sphere. Mary seems to recognize the last look the ghost offered them, she steps away from the circle herself, silently wringing her hands and looking towards Darcy. She doesn’t have a clue.

Darcy doesn't know what to do, her mind racing then in ways to help her granpa, and yet the only thing she knows, is to release the circle, to cast things back, and she isn't so sure that would work right then. And she certainly doesn't want it to get /out/ either.

"STOP!" She cries out, flinging a hand, as if it might listen to her, and yet she watches, too late, as her grandfather is ripped apart, left to fade away forever. The look upon her face is one of horror and disbelief with grief.

The question is put forth to Mary, and when the ghost shows she doesn't have a clue, she growls beneath her breath, "You've shown me, you taught me.. what the hell am I to do??"

Tamara's face sets. Whatever that was, that has to be stopped. Somehow. She grits out, "What IS that thing, and how do we stop it?" Yep, that's Tam, cutting to the chase.

Within the coiling darkness, and shadow cast hand forms; both humanoid and slender. He grows, reaching out from the mass of moving tendrils until a somewhat feminine arm forms. The necklace and pendant jump from the floor to the grasp of the entity. It raises it up, the weight of the jade leaving the pendant to dangle there suspended by the spectral hand.

Very slowly a silhouette begins to emerge from the pitch black, complete with humanoid dimensions. Small breasts making it as once being female, as do the tentacles which take the shape of long flowing hair.

Because the entire form is black, small movements are hard to define. Harder still to make any identification outside its sex alone. The pendant lifts to eye level, and it almost seems to blink as it looks at it. It is …interested?

It’s then Mary is finally heard. She’s figured it out. “Heaven preserve us,” she shrieks as she backs away. The creature within the protective sphere flick it’s black eyes towards the ghost. In the same breath that she drops the necklace. Mary looks towards Darcy, uttering, “Vengeful spirit child.”

And then something unheard of happens. The floorboards beneath the spirit’s feet split, opening like the earth might during a quake. The jagged fissure is an inch wide, and goes from the center of Darcy’s, to her wall the half way up it. The circle is broken. The crack effectively separates both women from the Ghost of Mary.

"Don't know." Darcy answers Tamara, shaking her head as she turns back to the thing that begins to form within her circle. As the shape forms from the twisted tendrils of darkness, she watches, only to gasp when the pendant is lifted up. Damnit! She makes once more as if she might reach within, only to pull her hand back. The necklace, she wanted to take it away from that thing in there. With Mary's shriek, she jerks her attention to the ghost as she backs up, "What?" She seems confused, though what happens next, only makes her back up herself, "Oh.. fuck.." This.. is not supposed to happen. Leave it to her 'show and tell' summoning to go all fucked up in front of a guest! Tamara is never going to darken her door again!

Tamara doesn't know what she wants to do, but she KNOWS she can't just watch. The circle is broken, that THING is out, and menacing Mary. Her instincts cry out and Tamara takes a run, to bridge the gap, narrow...but probably significant, with a leap.

The creature is in the circle, and then it isn’t. It passes completely through Tamara’s body, entering her from the front and then pulling itself from her back in awkward, jerking movements. To see it move is truly horrifying. It’s almost like a lurching insect, or a fresh born calf still unsteady on its feet.

Still those steps close the gap between the entity and Mary, who has backed herself up against the wall. She’s unable to disperse, held there in check by the malevolent eyes of the dark entity.

She shrieks, “No!” as she feels it’s slender hand enter her torso up to its elbow. Spectral bile spills from his ghostly mouth like blood, vomited up as the foreign invader plunders her internally, searching. Seeking something substantial. It’s found in the form of her heart, and crushed just a fast.

Mary’s spirit convulses violently. Her arms and legs begins to spasm and twitch as light shine from her orifices. Slowly her opaque flesh cracks open, and the light is drowned out by dark tentacles that rip her apart from within. She leaves her afterlife screaming in terror.

Darcy yells at Tamara as she jumps over towards the two spirits, "Don't!" Shaking her head, she stumbles back, and then glances aside to her preparation area. Grabbing up her container of salt, she rushes forwards, and yet stumbles again when Mary cries out. As much as the ghost might have been a pain in her ass, Mary hadn't hurt her, or anyone else. This thing that has come to be is bad news, big time. Pouring some salt into her other hand, she cries out as she throws it towards the thing in the corner, "I purify this place with salt, to dispel all and any negative energies such as yourself! Be gone!"

Tamara does her best, given what she knows. She pushes out her hands, but the spirit moves through her like wind through smoke. She screams, a combination of terror and anger, her voice going shaky as her skin pales, going blue. As she drops to her knees, shaking uncontrollably as her body grows dangerously cold, skin and lips blue, actual frost forming on the surface of her skin.

The practice of putting down an enclosing ring of salt, or salting the doors and windows of a room for protection lies in the lore that Demons, Spirits and Ghosts cannot cross the line without counting each grain. The impossibility of this task thus prevents them from crossing the threshold or line, and thus a thicker line is used where the threat is greater. Such holds true in magic, and Darcy knows this. It’s very likely why whatever this is had to summon up all that power to crack open her flooring.

But Darcy knows other uses for salt. And not just to use it to purify a corpse before burning its bones. The timing is perfect. When it’s turns, jerking it’s head awkwardly back at the blond, she flings the creature’s face full of it. Yet salt alone will not destroy the spirit, but it does act as a deterrent, forcing the spirit to dissipate briefly. And this is what happens. A rage filled shriek echoes through the loft, and the shadows separate, dispelled by the sorceress. The room is suddenly, deafeningly silent. A moment later the chill is gone and the power flicks back on.

Darcy is a woman quite determined, and yet still may be slightly surprised when the spirit thing is dispelled. Looking around, she takes in everything, and then mutters what has to be a few choice words in Gaelic beneath her tongue. "This is not good." And then she turns about, "MARY!" Another shout for the ghost is made before she realizes that she's truly gone. "Shit." And then it's over towards her workbench to get out supplies, and if asked, she merely says, "Better protection.. smudging.. salts... "

Tamara is shivering, her voice pushing itself out of chattering teeth and numb lips, "Jesus, that's cold..gonna have to start carrying those chemical hand warmer thingies..." rubbing her arms, trying to get enough control of her limbs to get up, moving. Nope...not gonna happen.

It's likely not till Tamara speaks up, that Darcy turns to her and realizes... "Oh.. fuck.." Totally not used to having company during rituals to some degree! She hurries off to the kitchen, takes something from a drawer, and throws it into the microwaves before returning to snatch up a throw from the back of the couch to wrap around Tamara, "Sorry.. I need to get this done.." She'll help Tamara up to the sofa, then leaves her there when the microwave dings, bringing back with her, an odd rectangular pillow thing that's steaming a little now and smells like warm oats or something. "It'll help.."

Tamara just sucks in the warmth. She then calls out, her voice set, "I need you to teach me. I'm going to send that thing, and anything like it, back to whatever godforsaken pit it came from. Can you help me learn that?"

Once Tamara is tucked up and warming, Darcy returns to her work. Sage is pulled out, along with the salt, though she grabs another few containers from the shelf, "I'll teach you, but it's not easy. What I know, I've learned over the last three years or so..." The promise is given before she decides she's prepared enough, "I need to salt the windows and doors, and smudge the air with the sage. Give me a few, and I'll be back.." And with that, she hurries off after grabbing her robe up to pull on.